Hypergeniture Bk. 03 Pt. 01

She was just a girl, I was just a guy, we were out by the coast and we wanted to do nothing except sex, plain and simple.

• • •

"I feel young again," I declared, having met Natasha in my bedroom after finally getting dressed.

My eyes matched my cousin's as our lips curved into a shared smile. Her grin was lazier than mine and I could see she was tired, trying to hide it. "You know..." she drawled, hand on hip. "I can never decide what to call what we've become."

I knew the answer. "We're exactly what we need to be."

Pinching my cheek, Tash clarified her point. "I don't mean you and me, silly -- I mean the whole family."

"We're more than ordinary--"

"We're extraordinary," my cousin agreed. "We're like the mafia!"

"I guess that makes me the godfather." I pulled a face imitating the great Don Corleone, making Natasha giggle before she laid her head on my shoulder and took my hand, bringing it to her lips.

"My king, my capo, my friend, my cousin, my lover," she declared, kissing our family's signet ring each time she resolved on a title. "All those things on their own mean I have to take care of you. It's my job to make sure--"

"Tash," I interrupted, stroking her hair and hugging her so that her ear was against my chest and she could hear my heartbeat. The sound let her know I was okay, and she finally admitted defeat.

Straightening herself out, Natasha pouted at me with thoughtful consideration. She seemed to have accepted my defence, despite her experience as a nurse and as my friend keeping her doubtful.

"Alicia is worried," she reminded, "and I worry when Alicia worries. I've known you my whole life, but that woman understands you better than I ever could. When she speaks, you should listen."

"I'll have this conversation with her," I promised. "She's been going around behind my back, complaining to my mother and you... I wish she'd talk to me directly."

Natasha shook her head like women often do when a man is a little thick. "Olly, you know perfectly well why she's too scared to face you. She's looking at her life right now, realising she's exactly where she needs to be. That's when people become terrified of losing it all! That's when people become crippled by fear...

"Like a chess player who has the upper hand but is forced to move nonetheless. She can't freeze time or pass her turn. Whatever move she makes will put her in a different spot from where she is now."

Raising an eyebrow, I understood without really understanding.

Moving on, I asked, "So, are you ready for dinner with the--"

"Weirdos?" Natasha completed.

"What makes them so weird?"

"They spend all their time online."

"And you don't?" I teased.

"Not since I've been part of the Family with a capital F, dear Oliver. I'm a very posh bi'ch nowadays," Tash giggled, kissing me on the lips before spinning away so we could hold hands and look at the coast together.

"I always catch you staring out of windows," she said, "so there must be something to it. You look well."

"At last, you realise--"

"Still..."

"Still?"

Putting her hands on her hips, Natasha bent a knee and gave me what came close to being a maternal look from a younger cousin. "I'm pretty sure even Rockefeller and Mansa Musa slept. King Solomon was wise, so I can't imagine he pulled any stunts either."

She continued, "After what I do to you tonight, you will pass out... We're going to have dinner, go for a walk, then spend an hour in the gym. Afterwards, I'm going to make sure we have privacy; then I'm going to fuck you like a bunny hopped up on coke."

The reference to drugs made me tut, but Tash was only teasing and I trusted that she was resolute. "And if that doesn't work?" I grinned, quietly confident that I could outlast Tash any day of the week.

"If that doesn't work, you really don't need to sleep! But since you're not Superman, I doubt my plan will fail. Boys can only have so much vigour -- it's us girls who are supposed to have the endless energy."

"We'll see," I winked, annoying my cousin in a way that made her want to kiss me. After the kiss, she looked at me with lazy and lustful eyes.

"Let's head down for dinner with the brats before I can't fight the urge to bend over for you."

"Tisk, tisk, cuz... Let's not judge before we meet them."

Shrugging, Natasha seemed to silently admit that she was being a little harsh.

07 • The Cool Kids

As we left the bedroom, we immediately found Skylar and my mother ready to take us into the lion's den. There was some nervousness as we all contended with the truth we'd been away from society for some time now. We were out of practice when it came to small talk and making acquaintances.

We'd decided on smart casual as a dress code. Of course, my debonaire Aussie bodyguard outshined me, somehow looking unflinchingly feminine while pulling off a tailored suit better than any man could. Natasha was gorgeous as ever, and my mother had gone to pains selecting an outfit from her expensive new wardrobe.

Walking through one mansion to the next, we heard chattering voices. Stepping into the formal lounge across the formal dining room, there was a sudden change in tone among our guests. They fell silent, trying to stop themselves from staring as their backs straightened and their eyes darted to the floor.

It was like the Prince of Wales had just walked into the room and the ladies were dressed for a royal banquet. Their evening wear put us to shame; their hair and makeup were done with excruciating precision as they'd spent the afternoon anticipating a fancy dinner with a mysterious billionaire and his family.

As we took a few steps forward, they all shuffled into a line for introductions. They extended their hands and shook with more than one curtsying as they met us. I asked them about themselves and what they did for a living. In exchange, they replied as though they were testifying in court with carefully considered answers expressed in slow and deliberate language.

Here and there, one would slip into casual speech (but not for long).

The lay of the land seemed simple enough as each of our guests was almost precisely what you'd expect.

Jinx Lopez was a petite Latina and among the youngest of the group. She made short viral clips for a living, mainly relying on her lovable charisma and physique to secure fans and brand deals. Then there was the similarly cute, petite and pretty Dey Shapiro; a strange name for a girl whose mother was an African-American civil rights activist from Georgia, but not so strange if you considered her father was a hotshot LA movie producer. She too made short viral clips and, together with Jinx, they were the new generation of social media starlets.

A blonde named Lauren Polk was the foodie of the group -- a skinny chef with shoulder-length hair that had been curled for the occasion. She had a mature aura that contrasted with everyone else in the room and seemed closest to being at ease.

The gamer among the bunch was also a blonde. She had long straight hair tied in a ponytail and distinct Eastern European features. She insisted on being called 'Hex:' the screen name she used online. At first, it felt silly, but I was pleasantly surprised when she turned out to be the most sociable in the group. She'd started a little scared like everyone else, having never met a dollar-billionaire before, but she eased up quite quickly.

Finally, there was the gossip vlogger -- Sammie Truth (not her real name). She had Levantine features, big black glasses, olive skin, killer slim legs, and frankly massive boobs. Her particular niche meant few people were eager to spend time with her. I immediately noticed was persistent at inserting herself into conversations, always fishing for any information she could use in her videos, so I kept my distance.

One guest was missing, and as I saw Skylar approaching, I wanted to ask about it. But then I recognised the absolute terror in my bodyguard-cum-valet's eyes...

"What's wrong? Did something happen to the girls?" I asked, feeling my anxiety rise.

"No," Sky answered, "we... We don't have a chef."

"We don't have a chef???" I whispered, grabbing Skylar's shoulder and drawing us into a corner so that we could discuss the revelation in secret.

"Since you're going to be spending time here," she explained, "we had to recertify all the staff's security clearances, and the process wasn't done in time for tonight's dinner."

With my eyes wide, I realised the gravity of the situation. Elle was incredibly clear that we should do everything in our power to impress our guests. My sister would kill me if I screwed up!

"I... I could cook," Skylar proposed.

Rubbing my chin, I remembered when the staff in London quit. Back then, Alicia and Isabelle tried to handle the domestic stuff but were utterly and unashamedly terrible at it. Still, we had no other choice.

Grabbing Skylar's hand and shaking it wildly, I fixed her with a stare that wasn't unlike the look a coach gives his last-minute substitute as there are only five minutes left on the clock and a late game equaliser is sorely needed. She looked back at me with conviction, and I had faith in her, but I knew she couldn't do it alone!

We had to change the playing field to make things more equal.

"Ahem," I cleared my throat, preparing to make an announcement as I summoned everyone's attention. "My apologies, but there have been some issues in the kitchen. I propose we take charge and do something a little less formal. Maybe we could whip something up together, having some wine while we cook and get to know each other?"

There was stunned silence in the room. This was not what they expected from billionaire Oliver Orwell.

I felt like I'd blown my task, but then salvation came in the form of Lauren Polk. "Sounds fun," she said. "I love digging into a fridge and improvising! It's how my best recipes come together -- and my best videos!"

"Well, you can record this adventure. You all can!"

Sammie Truth cleared her throat. "Uhm, we were all told to leave our phones in our rooms..."

"Oh... Eh... Well then... Carpe diem!"

It took the crowd of high-maintenance, high-expectation starlets a while to parse the situation before falling in line quite happily. Relieved, Skylar and I blew warm air from our mouths as I pulled her close and whispered into her ear.

"Work with her. She is your sensei. Your spirit guide. Your sherpa."

"Yes, sir!" Sky responded, practically saluting as I sent her off on perhaps the most delicate mission she'd ever performed for me.

Yes, trying to feed these influencers with astronomically high standards was (unquestionably) far more dangerous than any armed rescue mission or fist fight with a mercenary spy. After all, what could be worse than disapproval from the pretty popular crowd?

Death doesn't even come close...

Heading down to the commercial kitchen that served the palace, we ran into the sixth and final member of the visiting party -- the gym bunny.

Primavera Bruno was a local, having been born and raised in Milan. It was immediately apparent she wasn't like the rest of the group. She was slightly older, with long dark hair and pumped-up lips. Her tits were fakes -- no doubt -- and stood out on her remarkably toned and athletic body. A body she didn't mind showing off as she wore a dark orange crop top with a brown skirt that hardly covered her thighs.

Upon encountering us, the Italian didn't even offer a greeting. She simply followed us to the kitchen, not uttering a word.

The night progressed smoothly, and everyone lowered their guard eventually. Lauren cooked with the help of Skylar and myself, teaching us tricks and techniques as we went along. Heading downstairs, I went in search of a cellar and some wine. Sammie Truth, the gossip girl, followed...

"We were bored before you arrived," she snickered. "Now, we've got some questions to keep us entertained. Like, why aren't we allowed to have our phones outside of our rooms? Or, what's up with the thick non-disclosure agreements we had to sign before you got here?"

"Better safe than sorry," I deflected. "My security people are very conscientious."

Pressing her tongue against the inside of her cheek, I could see the pro gossip wasn't buying my excuses. It was plain to all that the Orwell clan had things to hide and Sammie didn't trust a word I uttered.

I marched ahead, eventually finding the climate-controlled wine cellar, where I tried to distract the pseudo-journalist.

"Do you like wine?" I asked.

Sammie nodded in the affirmative, grabbing a bottle of red that I imagined she'd be finishing on her own. She continued to talk, but I didn't listen. You see, I knew what she wanted, and it was something I could never give to anyone outside my immediate circle of trusted friends and family.

She wanted the truth, and I could only offer lies, excuses and deflections.

Arriving back in the kitchen, I went to help Lauren and Skylar with the food. The two seemed to have become best friends in a heartbeat, making jokes and telling stories. I joined their conversation just as Lauren revealed a morsel of information that titillated Skylar beyond her wildest dreams.

"My ex thought less of me because I liked working in a kitchen," she said.

Skylar snorted. "Men... No offence, sir."

Lauren giggled. "My ex was a girl, but my ex before her was a dude. Both left me kinda pissed off, so I guess you could say I'm bi-furious."

"Oh," my bodyguard cleared her throat, trying to hide her excitement.

Suddenly, the very calm and collected Aussie became shy and flustered. I played wingman for the rest of the night, slowly coaxing Skylar back out of her shell so that she could flirt a little and have some fun. Then, I turned my attention to the other guests, telling them jokes they felt they had to laugh at while they answered my questions with a bit more ease as each minute passed.

I was almost reluctant to leave as Natasha came to tug on my elbow and lead me to our evening's exercise.

"Sorry ladies," she excused, "my dear cousin has been suffering from insomnia."

"Awww," the petite and pretty Jinx Lopez remonstrated cutely. "That's so bad! I hope you get a good night's rest, Mr Orwell."

As everyone else wished us goodbye, Natasha led me from the room and pinched the back of my neck. She was convinced that she'd knock me out by the time the night was done, and I was convinced I could outlast her.

Picking a quiet route, we went for a walk through the extensive palace grounds. Forgetting about all the money and the danger, we were just a couple out on a stroll. We let ourselves be ordinary, holding hands once we realised there were no people around to judge how we felt about each other.

The part of me that wanted to be a hero left us alone. I became a man who simply wanted to be good -- good to my friends, my family, my lovers... Good; just plain good. No grand plans or wars to wage: No agenda, no matter how important I felt at those times when it seemed I had an obligation to the entire human race.

Then, Natasha turned to me and I got a little reminder that things would never be quite so simple. "Tonight's workout is going to be tough," she said. "It's my job to make sure we're all strong."

Yes, we had to be strong.

Parting, I went to my room and Natasha went to hers as we got changed. When we met back at the fitness centre, my cousin kept her promise.

08 • Cooldown

Every heavy breath, every heave of the chest, saw us make a little plume of frost that drifted in the air before vanishing a second later...

Natasha had put me through my paces, having devised a workout routine that could easily have been classed as cruel and unusual punishment. "You're a torturer," I complained, hands on my knees as I tried to regain my breath.

As soon as we were done, my cousin grabbed my hand and dragged me to the other side of the house. We went back to the commercial kitchen where we'd entertained our guests and she opened the door to the large walk-in fridge. It was her plan all along: A super-hot session in the gym followed by an extreme cooldown.

All good workouts are slightly masochistic, and I enjoyed Tash's creativity as she pulled me into the icy box bathed in fluorescent light. As the thick door closed behind us and sealed us into the room, we took a second to climatise. The refrigerator doubled as a panic room with a physical latch to keep it secure from inside. It was soundproof, windowless, private...

Natasha was tired too, having worked out with me, and our sweaty bodies mirrored each other as we felt the cold -- a relief and a punishment. Once we could straighten our backs, I had a look around. My cousin had scoped out the sight earlier, while I was cooking with Skylar and Lauren. The fridge was pretty much empty, usually used for beverages, but low on stock since we chased the palace's staff away. Tash clambered onto an empty metal shelf, sitting on its edge, while I grabbed us beers from a solitary crate in the corner.

We drank greedily with my sore biceps stinging each time I lifted the bottle to my lips.

Watching Natasha struggle to compose her sweaty body as she gulped down her whole beer in seconds was something else... She looked wild and primal -- her grey sports bra as tight as the matching lycra shorts encasing her pelvis. Her nipples rock hard and visible under the fabric of her top and her sex outlined by her bottoms. Sitting on the second rung of the steel shelf, her hips were as high as my stomach, and I knew exactly what I wanted to do...

"You're not wearing underwear," I asserted, witnessing how the ultra-tight fabric wedged between her thighs.

Trying to bring her frantic lungs to heel, Natasha nodded. Maybe out of nothing more than instinct and desire, she parted her legs a fraction and then a fraction more. I saw a slither of pink -- a tiny-tiny little teaser -- and if my mind weren't made up yet, it was made up then.

I set my drink aside. Then, all it took was one step, and my hands were on her legs. Even in the shivering cold, they felt warm underneath my fingertips; her skin was soft and inviting. I gripped the band of her shorts, and she lifted her bum as the fabric made its way down her thighs and to her feet. Setting herself down, her soft ass made contact with the freezing cold steel. She yelped, raised her ass again, and then slowly set it down, grumbling as the intense frost gave her tired psyche a jolt of much-needed energy.

"You're going to have to warm me up," my cousin suggested, holding tightly onto the sides of the shelf as her lips shivered and her teeth sunk down on them to calm the tremor.

Her naked pussy was glistening. The pink folds hugged each other close, keeping the secret of her sex. I brought my tongue to that place, feeling the slight heat that survived even the coldest conditions. As my tastebuds registered taste and my nostrils scent, her slim thighs were on either side of my head as her hands moved to grip me tightly. They seized me, tangling with my dark curls of hair as her lungs, tired from exercise but invigorated from the cold, moaned loudly and those cries of passion reverberated from every surface in our sealed chamber.

Almost nervously, I wanted to give my cousin an amazing night. The cold would make the journey harder, but the destination would be unlike anything else.

My lips latched onto her clit -- that little place that could drive her so wild -- and I worked roughly to make her toes curl and hair stand on end.

"Oh, Olly! Oh, cuz..."

Natasha kept up her exasperated speech until she could speak no more. I licked her up and down, swirling my tongue or keeping it flat, changing my pace as I read her body and hoped to keep her on a rollercoaster of lust for a long night to come. When she could no longer form words, the only sound she uttered was the sound of her tongue clicking, clicking, like a faulty ignition... That's when I pushed her over the edge.